The Span of a Relationship
by Sweet Danish Yummy
Summary: A series of short interconnected drabbles using themes from the ikkanemu community on livejournal. [Ikkaku x Nemu] [UPDATE 04.20.2006]
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Span of a Relationship

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: Ikkaku x Nemu

Rating: PG-13 for some hints and swearing

Summary: A series of short drabbles using 10 of the themes at ikkanemu

For Virgo for inspiring the masses

Disclaimer: I am not Kubo Tite, thus I do not own Bleach. I do not own these characters. I am only borrowing them for my own enjoyment.

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**1. Molding to expectations**

She would never say anything bad about her father. It was not her place to be critical of the man who had created her. No, it was _his _place to be critical of _her_. She fell so far from the perfection he'd planned for her.

Each day was an experiment in her adaptability. Each day she tested how far she could push herself, how much she could change. Not a day went by when she didn't try to mold to Mayuri-sama's expectations.

When she'd first began to spend time with Ikkaku, she'd tried to discern what he wanted most. She subtlety prodded his speech, studied his body language, attempting to learn what he wanted from her. She wanted him to like her. Mayuri-sama only liked her when she behaved as he wanted her to.

But Ikkaku frustrated her. She'd mastered the art of reading people to discover their hidden intentions--she could read body language, hear the unspoken words that every person invariably held back. But with Ikkaku...

She watched him, slight panic rising in her stomach. She was failing--she didn't know how to behave to please him, and it would inevitably make him dislike her.

He blinked at her, brow furrowing. "Ne, Kurotsuchi-fukataichou? Why're ya makin' that face?"

She blinked, looking away quickly, the nails of her fingers digging into the knuckles of her other hand as she held them clasped in front of her. Her teeth worried at her lower lip as she tried to figure out how to read him.

She was startled to feel rough fingers lightly touch her chin, tilting her head until her eyes met his again. His thumb brushed her chin, his nail scraping over the edge of her lower lip, coaxing her teeth to release its prisoner.

"Kurotsuchi-fukataichou, why're ya holdin' back?"

She blinked, swallowing before she answered, trying to pull her focus from the gentle grip on her chin. "I am...holding back?"

"Yeah, ya are. Why?"

She took a deep breath. Lying was not something she'd ever done. She would not start now.

"I am trying to figure out what you expect of me, Madarame-san."

He frowned slightly, his fingers lightly caressing the corner of her mouth. "Wha'dya mean? I don't expect nothin' from ya."

"I want to make you happy, Mada--"

"Kurotsuchi-fukataichou...ya don't hafta do anythin' ta please me. Just be yourself."

She blinked up at him, and wondered why that simple phrase meant so much to her.

**2. Slip of the tongue**

At the end of the vice-captain meeting she lingered, watching as he laughed and joked with the vice-captain of the 7th division. She smiled to herself, his laughter infectious as he slapped Iba on the back, shaking his head.

He looked up and caught her smile, grinning broadly at the sight of it. He met her gaze and held it until she looked away, color blossoming over her cheeks. Saying good-bye to Iba he moved across the room, joining her.

"Ne, Nemu? Somethin' wrong?" He watched her, waiting, and there it was: her cheeks deepended to a crimson hue and she looked at him, eyes wide.

"Madarame-san, you shouldn't address me in that manner in public." Her voice was low, her tone slightly alarmed. She feared what might happen if anyone suspected what went on between herself and the 3rd seat of the 11th division.

"Slip of the tongue." He followed her as she left the building, putting a hand on the small of her back and dragging her between two buildings, pressing her against the wall and cupping her cheek. The pad of his thumb traced the hot curve of her cheek.

"Madarame-san--"

He kissed her, tongue sliding between her lips and exploring her mouth as if it were the first time he'd done so. He heard her gasp and cupped the back of her head, fingers splaying and sliding down her neck, claiming her mouth possessively.

"...Ikkaku..."

**3. A Dim Light**

He'd gotten into the habit of leaving a small light on in his room. Not for any fear of the dark, of course--Ikkaku didn't mind the dark. It was very supportive of sleep, he found. What was there to fear in the dark? Ikkaku, like any good warrior, relied on more than just his eyes to sense his enemies. Being blinded hardly fazed him. He was, by nature, a light sleeper, and thus found nothing to be nervous about when the night wiped out the sun.

No, the dim light was not for himself. He'd discovered, on accident, that Nemu, when she couldn't sleep--which was often--would walk from the 12th to the 11th division. He might never have discovered this, if he hadn't been up late one night doing paperwork, a light blazing on his desk so that he could see his brush move over the paper.

He'd sensed her reiatsu before she'd taped on his window. Curious, wondering if she was hurt, he padded over and opened it, blinking down at her.

"Ne, Nemu? Whacha doin' up so late?"

She looked up at him, her expression a little sadder than normal, and asked softly if he was busy.

It never occurred to him to tell her that he was working as he shook his head, asking if she wanted to come in. And, to his surprise, instead of entering the building and coming in through his door, she'd placed her hands on his windowsill and climbed into his room.

"I'm sorry...it's just, your light was on..."

He'd blinked and sat with her, neither of them saying anything. She leaned against him, her head light on his shoulder, her body seeming even smaller against his own. He'd put his arm around her, a little awkwardly, and held her to him until she shook her head, stood, and wordlessly climbed back out his window.

No, the dim light was not for himself. The light was a beacon, should she need it. So that she'd know that, for her, he was always awake.

**4. Defy Sense**

The 11th division was more than aware of Ikkaku and Nemu's relationship. They also knew better than to say anything to anyone outside of the division, or even speak about it when someone outside the division might possibly overhear. If word ever got out that Ikkaku was banging the 12th division captain's prized daughter, Ikkaku would make _damn sure_ that person died long before Kurotsuchi even had the chance to draw his blade.

In those few instances where 11th division members thought it was safe--or were merely feeling brave and/or stupid--they wondered how Ikkaku had landed Nemu.

It defied sense.

Nemu was so quiet, so withdrawn. She spoke quietly, held herself inward, and never did anything unless ordered to. She was like a zanpakuto--held in check by the person who wielded her, released only on his command, with a voice that only he could hear.

Ikkaku, on the other hand, was none of these things. In fact, if anyone ever described Ikkaku as quiet or withdrawn, then were obvious delusional. Ikkaku had never once in his life been withdrawn. And he was more than happy to do anything, ordered to or not. In fact, depending on the order, he may or may not do it anyway.

Not that he didn't listen to Zaraki-taichou, they were quick to add. No, Ikkaku respected their captain more than any other person. On the rare occasions Zaraki felt the need to convey an order, Ikkaku was quick to carry it out.

This trait did not carry over when it came to other captains, however.

Not only were their personalities so polar opposite, but anyone could see that Nemu was far out of Ikkaku's league. Granted, the shinigami wasn't hard on the eyes, but there's no way he rated high enough to snag someone like Nemu. The vice-captain of the 12th division was fodder for many fantasies among male shinigami, especially considering the uniform she wore. With legs like that, how could you not--

It was inevitable that around this time Ikkaku would show up and overhear the 11th division members discussing the various desirable parts of Nemu's body. And it was inevitable that he beat them so far into the ground that they needed a ladder to get out.

Why the 11th division continued to gossip like this is unknown. It defied sense.

**5. Louder than Words**

Ikkaku was not the kind of guy to hold anything back. If he was happy, he let it show. If he was annoyed, he had no qualms about expressing that emotion. Ikkaku was the furthest thing from an enigma--he didn't have the faintest idea how to be discrete. He was loud, verbal, and extroverted. He was animated and perfectly comfortable being himself. More than anything, he valued these qualities in others--these were the kind of people he was most comfortable around. People that were as loud, as rowdy, as rambunctious as he was. He knew where he stood with these types, and he liked that.

It was part of the reason he was both intrigued and off-balance with Nemu. She said so little, expressed so few emotions, that he was never truly sure what she was thinking. Her features, trained after years of abuse to give nothing away, gave him no clue how she received him. Her voice was always quiet, always demure, and her words were, if possible, even more secretive than her silence.

Yet, when she traced her fingers down his jaw and feathered her lips over his, her tiny body pressing against his under the protection of the shadows, stealing away his breath and heart and soul, he found that, sometimes, actions were much louder than words.

**6. Confidence**

Watching the vice captain of the 12th division walk sedately behind her father, one would never suspect the confidence she was capable of wielding.

No one would suspect that the tiny hands that clasped demurely in front of her could possessively scrape down a scarred, muscled chest. Who would guess that lips that barely formed a sound throughout the day could claim, nibble, tease, tempt, and cry out with unabashed passion?

To look at Kurotsuchi Nemu was to see a withdrawn beauty, one that would never be capable of pressing his large, lean body up against the wall and devouring him with the voracious appetite of the minx she didn't seem to be but most certainly was.

If anyone was ever asked about the vice-captain, the answer was always that Nemu was shy, reserved, and lacking in confidence.

Only the 3rd seat of the 11th division knew the confidence she was capable of wielding, when she truly wanted to.

**7. She is my sin**

Ikkaku had always sworn that he would never let anything make him weak. Long ago, when he'd first become a shinigami, he's sworn on his zanpakuto that he would be strong.

Lying next to her, feeling her flushed body pressed to his, the fan of her breath raising goose bumps over his damp flesh, he realized that he'd broken his own rule. When it came to her, he was weak. He could not stand to see her unhappy. He would not allow anyone to hurt her. He'd throw his life down if it meant to protect her. And while that might not have made him weak, he knew that she held power over him. A smile, a glance, a soft caress of her fingers and he was at her mercy, his knees weak, his breath gone, his soul forever in her possession. When it came to Kurotsuchi Nemu, he had no strength to fight her.

He'd laid down only one rule for himself, and for her, he broke it without a second thought. When she pressed herself against him, all thoughts of his previous commandment were lost in the feel of her heart pounding against his chest.

For her, he sinned.

**8. Yours, not his**

It was one of the few things they argued about.

"Your life is yours, not his."

"He gave it to me. How can it be mine?"

"'Cause...'cause it's yours! Ta do with as ya please! Ya shouldn't let him control ya like he does!"

And every time he said this her eyes would sadden, and she'd sink down to the ground, hands folded in her lap, looking at her fingers as they twisted and pulled at themselves. And every time she did, he felt his heart clench, because he knew he'd hurt her, somehow. He'd vowed to himself that he would never hurt her--he would be her haven, her harbor, her rock, her anchor.

He'd fall to his knees and hold her against him, smoothing his hand over the silky hair at the back of her head.

And then, one night, with her face buried in his chest, tears at the edge of her sad eyes, she murmured something to him that very nearly broke his heart.

"I wish I could take my life from his control. I'm sorry, Ikkaku...sorry that I cannot be strong, like you. I'm sorry...that I disappoint you."

**9. Silent Scream**

He never pressed for her to tell him what drove her to him that night. He didn't ask why she suddenly knocked on his window, her eyes darker than usual, trembling despite the humidity of the night. He wanted to, but he didn't inquire about the bruised look of her mouth, the broken skin of her neck, the tender flesh of her legs and arms and back. He didn't ask, because he knew, instinctively, that she could not answer him.

He cradled her fragile body against his and listened to her silently scream her anguish.

**10. Loyalty to Whom?**

She'd been loyal to one man all her life. The man who gave her life, the one who'd fixed her soul to her body, the person responsible for her entire being. He was quick to remind her that she owed him at least her loyalty for all he'd done for her. Her unquestioned, unwavering loyalty was expected, payment for the debt she could never repay. The debt of her life that she owed to Kurotsuchi Mayuri, genius of the 12th division.

She'd never thought to allow herself to feel loyalty to another. Such a thing would only complicate matters. However, as time passed, she found that her loyalty began to split. At first the split was uneven--the majority of her loyalty remained firmly in the possession of her father.

However...little by little, her loyalty began to shift. And before she knew it, without her permission or realization, her loyalty was split evenly, straight down the middle, between the monster and the man.

And now, watching as the man and the monster stared one another down, knowing she had to do something to stop them from killing one another (_she didn't know whose death she feared more, his or his_), she has to decide.

The man...or the monster?

Taking a deep breath she decides.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Span of a Relationship, part two

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: Ikkaku x Nemu

Rating: PG for some language

Warnings: Angsty. Like whoa.

Summary: A series of short drabbles using 8 of the themes at ikkanemu

Disclaimer: I am not Kubo Tite, thus I do not own Bleach. I do not own these characters. I am only borrowing them for my own enjoyment.

For Virgo, since if it weren't for her, I wouldn't be writing these two. That's right, everyone, blame her.

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**1. No obstacles**

She dreamed of a life with no obstacles. A life where she did not have to hide anything. Her thoughts. Her pain. Her emotions. Her love. Her voice. Her soul. A life where she could be free to express all of these. A life where she did not feel guilty for her defiance.

Her defiance...

Every time she left him, she felt the burning of disobedience in her gut. And every time she returned home, she felt certain she would be found out. Discovered. Caught. Punished.

Punished for loving someone. Punished for letting him love her.

A life without obstacles...such a thing is only a dream for Kurotsuchi Nemu.

**2. Dangling Threats**

"Nemu."

"Yes, Mayuri-sama?"

"It's come to my attention that you've been leaving your quarters at night."

Silence.

"Is this true, witless girl?"

"...Yes, Mayuri-sama."

"Where do you go in the middle of the night?"

"For a walk." It was not a lie.

"And where do these walks take you?"

She swallowed. She took a deep breath.

"Answer me, witless girl! It will hurt more if you hold your tongue. I will know if you lie, and I will make you regret it. So tell me, my disappointment, _where do your late night walks take you_?" As one might dangle a treat in front of a dog to get it to perform the trick desired, Mayuri dangled threats in front of his daughter in order to get her to answer.

"...To the 11th division, Mayuri-sama."

He advanced on her, fingers curling as they gripped her tightly.

"Fool girl."

**3. Father's Approval**

He didn't give a Hollow's ass what the captain of the 12th division thought of him. There were only two people whom he wanted to think of him favorably. One was his captain, Zaraki Kenpachi, the most badass shinigami to ever walk Sereitei. The other was Kurotsuchi Nemu, the most beautiful shinigami to ever look his way.

So he gave a fuck what Kurotsuchi Mayuri thought. He could take his opinion of Ikkaku and shove it up his ass, for all he cared, 'cause it didn't matter to him _whatsoever_.

But when Nemu came to him, so many bruises darkening her body that there was no visible patch of unmarked skin to be seen, and said that her father did not approve of her spending time with him...

...well, it suddenly seemed to matter just a little bit more what Mayuri thought of him.

**4. Unregretful mistake**

It had been wrong to start a relationship with Madarame Ikkaku. She knew that now. If she'd never begun to see him, she would not have this pain now.

Not physical pain. Nemu had long ago learned to live with physical pain, as it was constantly laid down upon her by her father. No, physical pain she had mastered. She could block out physical pain, when the need arose. She lived with physical pain--it was her constant companion.

This pain was new. This pain that ate away at her daily, chewing at her soul, gnawing ceaselessly, mercilessly, until she felt she might break in two from the force of it.

Yes, it had been a mistake. But she refused to regret that mistake. Because, while she may have yet another pain to live with, she had something that she hadn't had before.

She had the memory of his love for her.

**5. Possession**

He finally managed to corner her, holding her elbows as lightly as he could. He knew even that light touch might cause a flair of pain from old bruises...

_...bruises he had caused her..._

...and he asked her, softly, why she was avoiding him.

"Please, Madarame-san, I cannot--"

"Nemu, don't call me that--"

She looked at him, whimpering softly and trying to pull free from his embrace. It didn't matter that his touch was as light as the caress of a butterfly wing. She could not pull free from it.

"Just tell me what I can do, Nemu." He leaned forward, brushing his lips over her forehead.

For that brief second she leaned into him before wrenching back as if she'd been burned.

"Let me go, Madarame-san, you should not be holding me like this."

"Why not?" He challenged, stepping so close that the dark folds of his clothing blended with her own. "Why can't I hold ya? Why're ya resistin'?"

"Because I am his possession!" The words burst forth from her lips violently as she managed to yank free of him. Emotion clogged her throat and she turned away, ready to flee from him.

He pulled her back, his arms locked around her as if he never intended to let go, his voice soft yet authoritative against her ear.

"You're no one's possession, Nemu. Ya belong ta no one save yourself. Remember that." And then, he was gone.

**6. Friend of my Friend**

"Ne, Kurotsuchi-fukataichou, may I speak with you please?"

Nemu paused, looking up and blinking curiously at the man who'd spoken. She hesitated, then nodded, turning to face him fully.

Ayasekawa Yumichika smiled, motioning that she should follow him. He began to stroll, as if he had no real destination, his tone belying his carefree expression.

"Kurotsuchi-fukataichou, how are you?"

Nemu was confused by his question. She was not accustomed to anyone inquiring after how she was, let alone a member of another division she'd only ever passed casual pleasantries with.

"Ayasekawa-san? Why do you ask?"

"Because you are the friend of my friend. Actually, I believe you to be quite a bit more than a friend to my friend. And if you aren't yet, then I know that he wishes you were!" Yumichika smiled, his steps light. "And I notice you have been avoiding my friend. You seem more down than usual, Kurotsuchi-fukataichou, and I ask only to ensure that my friend has caused you no hurt. Because if he has, allow me to apologize on his behalf. I swear I have tried to train that boy but he is, as some would say, a moron when it comes to some things. The man knows how to wield his sword but not much else." And here the fifth seat sighed dramatically, shaking his head artfully so that the soft strands of his hair brushed his cheeks but fell back into place neatly.

Nemu looked away from Yumichika, her eyes saddening a bit more. "Madarame-san has done nothing wrong, Ayasekawa-san. I am merely...busy, helping Mayuri-sama."

"Ah, I'm happy to hear that, Kurotsuchi-fukataichou! I trust that when you aren't so busy you will drop by and see our mutual friend." He went on, as if sensing her inevitable refusal. "Normally I wouldn't ask, except that he has been terribly moody lately and I'm beginning to think that he needs a good swift kick in the ass, if you get what I mean. Taichou has very little patience for layabouts, and I'm thinking he might let Fukataichou gnaw Ikkaku's head off to get him moving again. And while his head isn't exactly attractive, it is still more attractive attached to his neck than not, so could you come by and see him? Arigato, Kurotsuchi-fukataichou!" And here he bowed, sparkling with a bright smile as he turned and walked way.

Nemu blinked at his back, wondering how he could be so certain of her acquiesce. Never mind that he was correct in his assumption.

**7. Can't take back what you've taken away**

"Madarame-san?"

Ikkaku looked up at her, his expression unreadable. "Hai, Kurotsuchi-fukataichou?"

He tried to ignore the brief flash of pain that crossed her eyes at the use of her formal title. Tried to ignore the squeeze in his chest at the recognition of that pain, knowing that he had put it there. Tried to distance himself from her, so that her pain would not affect him.

Tried. Failed.

"May I speak with you, please?"

He thought about snapping off a sarcastic remark. Thought about refusing her. Thought about telling her that there was nothing for them to speak about, since everything that could be said had been said.

Thought. Didn't.

"Hai, Kurotsuchi-fukataichou." He stood, hooking his thumbs through the belt of his pants and following her small steps as she led them away from the high traffic area of the vice-captain meetings. She led him down an all-too-familiar alleyway, finding refuge in the shadows.

Ikkaku waited, standing in the sun, blocking the view of the alley from any who might pass by. He tried not to remember the last time she'd dragged him to this alley. Tried not to remember her lips, her tongue, her hands, her body, her scent, her touch. Tried not to remember that feeling--that feeling of completion as he'd buried himself in her. That feeling that nothing could ever feel so right as she did. Tried to forget the feeling that he would give anything to keep her next to him.

Tried. Failed.

"What'd ya wanna talk ta me 'bout, Kurotsuchi-fukataichou?"

She winced visibly now. He used to revel in the fact that she hid nothing from him. It thrilled him to know that she felt safe enough with him to express whatever she was thinking. Now, his heart breaking, he wished that she would hide her feelings from him again.

It may have been selfish, but he couldn't help it.

"Ikkaku..."

He stared at her, stunned, his throat tightening. And before he could stop himself he was speaking again. "Ya can't take back what ya've taken away, Kurotsuchi-fukataichou. Ya wanted us ta stop seein' each other. Ya wanted us ta stop bein' close. Ya took away what we had. Ya can't try an' take back that decision."

He regretted the words as soon as he said them, watching her expression crumble in on itself. Something within him broke right then, watching as she worked hard at carefully blanking her facial features. She looked away from him, her hands clasped in front of her. When she looked back at him, he knew that he had destroyed something.

Destroyed them. Destroyed her. Destroyed both. It didn't matter. Either way...he took a step, reaching for her.

"Nemu, I--"

"I'm sorry for bothering you...Madarame-san."

And, like that brief time when they were happy, she was suddenly gone. Without explanation, without preamble, without warning. And he was left reaching for a ghost, his heart breaking.

**8. Numb**

She'd thought the pain was bad. She'd thought it would rend her in two. She'd thought that she would never make it through, would never again be herself. She thought that there was no way she could ever function again. There was nothing to stop the pain, nothing to distract from it, nothing to heal it. It was an open wound that festered and refused to scab over. It was her heart, ripped from her chest, beating pathetically against the ground. It was his name, pounding in her ears, struggling to be released. It was her voice, trapped in her throat, denying her the temporary relief of even speaking with him.

He'd thought it could not get any worse. He'd thought her leaving him was bad. He'd thought that never being able to hold her again was bad. It hurt to remember how close he'd been to her. She'd been happy, he could tell. She smiled. She spoke. She whispered to him in the night that she longed to stay with him. She held him to her, pressing her face against his chest, engulfing him as he engulfed her. He could feel her heart pound against his ribs and he could drown in her arms. He listened to the things she didn't say, and he told her things no one else would hear, and through it all he knew she was happy, because she knew he would protect her.

Both thought that it had been bad, before. The pain that had become the focus of their lives had, indeed, been bad.

But that was nothing compared to the numbness that followed.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: The Span of a Relationship, part three

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: Ikkaku x Nemu

Rating: M

Warning: Some language and angst and innuendo.

Summary: A series of short drabbles using themes at IkkaNemu community.

Disclaimer: I am not Kubo Tite, thus I do not own Bleach. I do not own these characters. I am only borrowing them for my own enjoyment.

* * *

**1. Don't Look Back**

Nemu missed Ikkaku, for so many different reasons. She missed his smile. When he smiled she believed that he could accomplish anything. That grin of his could break down the walls she'd built (walls that Mayuri-sama had, in some manner or another, helped to construct) and made her heart beat faster. Nemu had never believed in anything the way she believed in him when he smiled.

She missed his voice, murmuring to her in the night about everything, or nothing. The words never really mattered so much as his voice--rough, yet soft, strong and soothing. Buried in his arms his voice could lull her into the kind of sweet dreams she'd never before experienced. Waking up to the rumble of his snoring, the feel of his chest expanding and collapsing under her cheek, Nemu sometimes wondered if she ever truly woke from her dreaming.

She missed how she felt when she was with him. It was easier to smile when he was holding her. It felt _natural_ to chuckle when he was speaking, doing, being. Nemu had discovered how to be comfortable in her own skin, after watching the ease with which Ikkaku did everything. Watching him strut around the 11th division, barking orders with easy assurance, seeing him lounge in his chair, bare feet propped on the table, zanpakuto resting across his lap, it was hard to imagine that Ikkaku ever once felt uncertain about anything. Everything Ikkaku did was with the same ballsy confidence that Nemu was in complete awe of.

She missed him more than she'd ever thought possible. At times it was a physical ache that took her breath away, weakening her knees and doubling her over in the kind of gut-wrenching pain that made Mayuri-sama's experiments feel like a day at the beach.

Nemu tried to tell herself not to look back. Living in the past would do her no good, and remembering her time with Ikkaku only made her ache.

_Don't look back._ She told herself, fingers weaving together in front of her. Yet, when she heard his voice behind her, all her will, all her resolve, dissolved as her heart pounded hard into her ribs, struggling to break free and return to the man who had taught her to smile.

She couldn't help but look back.

**2. All the Wrong Reasons**

Yumichika had been aware that _something_ was going on between Ikkaku and Nemu. Granted, he didn't know precisely _what_ that something was, but he was aware of the change between the two. Tension had suddenly consumed the air between them whenever they were near one another. Yumichika, beauty that he was, was only too familiar with that kind of tension, considering he'd been on the receiving end of it on more than one occasion. That was merely a consequence of being as gorgeous as he was.

To say he'd been surprised would have been an understatement. Ikkaku and Nemu? The 3rd seat of the 11th division and the vice captain of the 12th division? A man who was in every way a thug and the shy beauty that hid behind her father?

_How could that even happen?_

Yumichika waited for Ikkaku to tell him. Waited for his friend to reveal all the dirty, torrid details of his affair. Waited with the metaphorical bated breath.

And was damned glad he hadn't actually held his breath, seeing as the bald shinigami never bothered to tell him _anything_. Honestly, what was the point of being a man's best friend if that man was going to withhold the kind of information that was essential for future blackmail/torment. How was he supposed to use Ikkaku's past against him if he wasn't even going to _share_ the needed information.

It was plainly apparent that not only was Ikkaku _not_ going to share, he was also doing a grade A job at royally fucking up whatever was going on with him and Nemu. Really, this was another reason why Ikkaku really needed to share--there was only so much Yumichika could do with the limited knowledge he possessed. If Yumichika had been kept in the loop he might have been able to foresee whatever disaster had struck and prevented it. But _no_...Ikkaku and his blasted "private" life.

"This is going to require a fair amount of finesse, not to mention a great deal of discretion."

Hisagi eyed Yumichika, one eyebrow lifting as he crossed his arms over his chest. Iba, tilting back onto the hind legs of his chair with his feet propped on his desk, tucked his hands behind his head while Renji leaned against the door frame of the 7th division office.

"The hell're you talkin' 'bout, Ayasekawa?" Iba asked, eyes narrowed behind his slim shades.

Yumichika gave a long suffering sigh. Really, how much was he going to be able to accomplish with a bunch of thugs as his accomplices? "I am referring to Ikkaku's love life. Or rather, his lack of. At least, I am assuming it is a lack of love life that is making him this moody. He has neglected to inform me of the exact nature of his relationship with Nemu."

"Prolly 'cause it ain't any of yer business." Iba commented, though he was grinning. So. Yumichika had noticed as well. Considering how well he knew Ikkaku, he couldn't help but notice that he'd been off for a while now. And any fool with eyes that worked could see the way he looked at Nemu. Not that Iba blamed him--she was one hot piece of ass, but the whole father factor kind of diminished her appeal. Iba liked all his body parts exactly as they were, exactly where they were, and wanted things to stay that way. Ikkaku always had lacked that part of his brain that weighed the risks of a situation versus the benefits. It was a good thing he had Iba, Renji, Hisagi, and apparently Yumichika to make sure that he didn't dig himself an early grave. Wouldn't suit him at all to have his balls ripped out through his nose, which he suspected would be the end results if he tried anything with Nemu.

However, if Nemu could bring back the man who used to be his friend and drinking buddy, then he'd at least give Kurotsuchi a damned hard fight before he tried to castrate Ikkaku.

Yumichika waved away Iba's statement with a graceful flick of his wrist. "Regardless, Iba-fukutaichou, you know as well as I do that Ikkaku is...a little clueless?...when it comes to such things."

"Fucker's dumber'n a brick, ya mean." Renji drawled, grinning slowly.

Yumichika sniffed at the crass words, sitting up straighter in his seat. "That would be a fairly accurate assessment, yes."

Hisagi's expression remained darkly neutral. "What's any of this gotta do with us?"

Yumichika smiled sweetly at Hisagi, brushing his fine hair off his cheek to dip his lids a bit, the decorative feathers at the corner of his eyes accenting his delicate features perfectly. His smile widened when Hisagi did not appear to react. A challenge? He liked that. Almost as much as he liked Hisagi's tattoo...

"Ikkaku is your friend as much as he is mine. I want to find out what is going on with him and Nemu, and I want to snap him out of the funk he's in. Using any means necessary."

Renji snorted loudly, the un-beautiful sound making Yumichika glare at him. "Yeah right. You mean you're tired of Ikkaku bein' a secretive bastard an' you wanna find out what he's been keepin' from ya."

Iba grinned, settling his chair on all four legs with a thump. "Who gives a fuck 'bout the reasoning? Wrong reasons or not, it's fer his own damned good."

Hisagi's mouth quirked slightly. "Yeah, I doubt he'll see it that way..."

**3. Beginning at the Beginning**

To say that Ikkaku appreciated the intervention would have been a stretch of the definition of the word "appreciate." In fact, in reality, it was no where near the definition of "appreciate," but they didn't take it personally. After all, if he was a little less dense he'd realize it was for his own good and be grateful. Wasn't his fault he was dumb as fuck.

Hisagi glared at Ikkaku, shoving him back into his seat.

"Back the fuck off, Hisagi." Ikkaku made to rise again but this time Renji thumped the heel of his palm against the bald shinigami's head, smacking him back into his seat. Enraged now Ikkaku bolted to his feet, knocking his chair back. "The fuck--!"

Iba grinned, pulling the two apart. "'Bout damned time you stopped actin' like a pansy bitch." He kicked the chair out of the way and offered Ikkaku a smirk.

"The hell you talkin' 'bout?" Ikkaku glared at Iba, looking like he still wanted to lay a few hits onto Renji. It was the most energetic he'd been since...well. He didn't wanna think about it.

"He's referring to your lackluster performance these past few months, Ikkaku." Yumichika grinned, flicking his hair out of his eyes. Ikkaku turned his furious gaze to him, baring his teeth. "And before you try to deny it, please remember that when you stop doing your job I am one of the first ones to feel the extra weight." He sighed here in a put upon manner, managing to look both tired and gorgeous.

"So? Wazzat matter to you?" Here he looked at Renji, Iba, and Hisagi, jaw locked. He'd argue with Yumichika about his work performance later, but first he wanted to know why this required the interference of the others.

"It matters 'cause ya've also been shirkin' on the drinkin', and frankly my wallet can't take it anymore. By my count you owe us five nights worth of rounds." Iba said, tilting his head in a thoughtful manner.

"Like hell I do! I ain't been out drinkin' with ya fuckers, why the hell I gotta pay--"

"That's precisely the point, Ikkaku." Yumichika met his friend's gaze, his expression serious. "You've stopped doing the things you enjoy. And you've been, quite frankly, sullen. Even Fukutaichou has noticed. And you know that if she noticed..."

Ikkaku nodded slowly, eying Yumichika. If Yachiru had picked up on his moodiness than it was beginning to have an effect. He looked at the sky, sighing.

"So...wha'dya want?"

"Tell us what's made ya all..." Renji frowned, gesturing vaguely. None of them wanted to say the word, because to suggest that any of them could get depressed suggested that they were not as invulnerable as they thought. He wouldn't want anyone accusing him of being depressed, and so he'd never accuse one of his friends of being in such a state. This lack of labeling was more to protect the group's sanctity than anything else; who'd ever heard of depressed thugs?

Ikkaku sighed, the exhalation long as he continued to eye the sky. He could have been vague on the details--he'd never told any of them about his and Nemu's relationship. After a moments pause he decided against being vague. These guys had been his friends for longer than he could remember, and had gotten into more shit with him then he _cared_ to remember. If there was anyone he could trust to keep their tongues behind their teeth, it was them.

So, taking a deep breath, he began at the beginning.

**4. Promise Not Forever**

In that long stretch of time after they stopped seeing each other, Ikkaku had gone through stages. At first he'd been in denial--he refused to believe that she really didn't want to be with him anymore. It couldn't be true--the woman that had snuck into his room at night and laid on his bed, watching him work, content just to be in his presence, would not have left him over something as trivial as her father's approval.

Well, if he allowed himself to think rationally about it, he'd admit that it wasn't _that_ trivial. But...it hurt, nonetheless. Knowing that she didn't think he was worth the risk of being with hurt more than anything else. He'd known, from the beginning, that her father would not approve of Ikkaku seeing Nemu. And he didn't care--for her, he would risk Kurotsuchi's wrath. Fuck, knowing what that bastard did to Nemu, Ikkaku privately looked forward to the day Kurotsuchi confronted him. The mere thought made adrenaline pound through his veins at the chance to tell Kurotsuchi exactly how often he and Nemu had bumped uglies--_in his own damned division_--and then letting the freaky-ass 12th division captain taste the sharp end of Hozoukimaru.

What he hadn't counted on was Nemu leaving him before that could happen. That possibility had never occurred to him. He'd always thought that...well, he'd thought she knew...how he felt.

After denial came anger. He couldn't say that he was angry at Nemu, exactly. More he was angry at himself, for believing that they would last. He'd learned, long ago, that the fewer people you relied on, the less likely you were to be disappointed. Since discovering this he'd come to rely on very few people--and even then, his reliance was as minimal as he could manage. Because of the structure of the Gotei-13, it was occasionally necessary to look to someone else for aide. Ikkaku did everything in his power to limit those occasions, but in the end knew that there were one or two people within his division that wouldn't let him down.

He'd thought Nemu would never let him down. When she had, his anger hadn't directed itself at her--even hurt, he couldn't bring himself to be mad at her. Instead, he was furious at himself for misjudging her. He'd thought she was strong enough to stand up to her father if he was at her side, only to find that she wasn't confident enough in his loyalty to her, nor in his ability to help her, to take that first step to freeing herself from her father.

He'd miscalculated. He hadn't made it clear that he would be there for her, and for that he would never forgive himself.

It seemed natural to go from anger to bargaining. He was not consciously aware of when the change took place, but he found himself one day swearing to himself that, if Nemu would only give him another chance, he'd never give her reason to doubt his support of her. If only she'd look at him one more time, he'd find the guts to approach her and work things out. He'd do anything--fuck, he'd even be nice to Kurotsuchi!--if it meant she would smile just one more time.

The depression that followed bargaining was short-lived. Something happened during this stage. Laying in his bed, Ikkaku thought back to their moments together. And, upon reflection, he realized that there was something he'd never told her. He supposed that he merely assumed she knew--there were times when she seemed to read his mind. Looking back, he guessed that he'd merely assumed she would know that which he'd never said.

Now, though, he knew he should have voiced it.

He'd told her, more than once, as his lips had danced over the hollow at the base of her throat, that he loved her. He'd told her, every time they parted ways, kisses grazing over her cheekbone, that she had his heart.

What he'd failed to tell her was that, when he told her he loved her, he was silently promising forever--until his death, the end of his forever, he would love her.

And so, when he moved from depression to acceptance, it was not an acceptance of his and Nemu's split. It was, instead, an acceptance of what he had to do.

He had to get her back.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: The Span of a Relationship, part four

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: Ikkaku x Nemu

Rating: R for implied stuff

Warning: Spoilers toward the end for beginning of Soul Society arc. Some angst and vague adult situations.

Summary: A series of short drabbles using themes at IkkaNemu community

Disclaimer: I am not Kubo Tite, thus I do not own Bleach. I do not own these characters. I am only borrowing them for my own enjoyment.

Author's Note: First time I've added one of these, but just a couple of quick notes: I wanted to thank all of you who reviewed the previous three chapters; it was very kind of you to take the time to do so. A brief note on this chapter--I've switched to writing in present tense, mostly because of school and term papers requiring present instead of past tense. I kind of prefer writing in this tense, it turns out, and so I will be going back and editing the first three chapters to reflect this change. I just wanted to warn the readers ahead of time and apologize for the inconsistency since I have a feeling it will be a few days until I have the time to make the changes to reflect this preference in the earlier chapters. Hope you enjoy!

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**1. Consequences**

"Have you thought through the consequences of these actions?" His voice contains no hint of his thinking as he holds his vice-captain's gaze.

She nods, once.

"Are you sure this is something you want?"

She nods again, more firmly this time.

His cigarette droops a bit and he pulls it from between his lips, his gaze changing slightly, seeming to focus on her more clearly.

"Why do you want this?"

She looks away now, eyes dropping to the floor as her hands unclasp before weaving back together again.

He waits, forehead wrinkling that implies the movement of an eyebrow up toward his horns, cigarette burning down between his thumb and forefinger.

"I would rather not say, Akon-san."

He thinks he might know, but he won't press. Still, it's an odd request and even if she seems to have no hesitation, he's not sure that he is ready to do this. He lifts the cigarette, taking another long, slow drag before speaking again.

"I'm not too sure about this, Kurotsuchi-fukutaichou."

She examines her interlocked fingers, licking her lips and taking a deep breath before she speaks.

"I am asking you this as a favor, Akon-san."

He pauses, trying to tilt his head to catch her eyes. He doesn't talk to the vice-captain much, has no reason to, and for her to suddenly come to him and request this...

So he does the only thing he can think to do. He drops his cigarette to the ground, snuffing it out with his heel, still trying to get her to look at him.

"If you're certain..."

She nods.

**2. Blatant Hesitation**

She may have sounded certain, but there is blatant hesitation in her movements. He kneels over her, deep furrows of concern forming between his eyes as he stared at her. Her head is turned away from him, her hands resting limp at her sides. She looks as if she is merely there, as if her soul has vacated this body and is far from this place. The line between his eyes deepens as he watches her, grazing his hands over her body. He has a technical knowledge of female anatomy, knows what touches will elicit what responses, and knows that his motions should be received with some acknowledgement.

"Kurotsuchi-fukutaichou?" He skims his palm over her bare thigh, leaning down so that she is forced to look at him, forced to see the man whose bare body is against her own.

Limpid green eyes stare back at him, unblinking, staring at him, past him, beyond him. She's not in this room, she's not under him, she's not feeling the sweep of his fingers over her body.

He wonders why she asked for this, why she stripped herself bare and laid herself down in front of him, if this is not what she really wanted. He can't begin to understand her reasoning, what would have driven her to think this was the right decision.

He tries, touching his mouth to the sensitive points on her body--the curve of her neck, the dip of her collarbone, the swell of a breast, the tip of her nipple--he attempts to draw her back. He strives to bring her back to herself, to feel him moving against her the way she asked him to, worked to evoke a reaction within her body to tempt her soul back to the surface.

He starts to slide inside her and winces at the lack of moisture, withdrawing and spitting into his palm, gliding it over his flesh before attempting the maneuver again. He buries himself in her, pressing and caressing in all the correct locations.

She doesn't respond, hasn't moved at all in the entire time he's touched her. The slight rise and fall of her chest is the only indication that she is still living.

He leans over her again, touching the side of her face gently.

"Are you done?"

He starts when she speaks. She's still not focused on him, still lost wherever she has escaped to, beyond his reach. This time he hesitates, trying to decide how he should answer her, what he should say to her. What she wants him to say to her.

"Hai, Kurotsuchi-fukutaichou." He pulls himself from her as he lies, sliding off her bed and tugging on his pants before she can note the evidence of his falsity. Tugging on the remainder of his uniform quickly he leaves, looking over his shoulder at her once to see that she hasn't moved. He's not sure she even noticed that he left her.

**3. This heart**

At some point after Akon has left she finally moves, turning onto her side slowly, tucking her arms against her chest and drawing her knees up close to her chest. She folds her body into the smallest shape possible, taking up a tiny corner of her bed.

Slowly her vision blurs, tears pooling to drop from her lashes and onto her pillow, but she makes no move to stop herself. She doesn't try and hide this weakness, safe in the privacy of her room from the judgmental eyes of her father. She allows herself this flaw, lets her tears fall in hopes that this will somehow let the pain leak out of her body.

This heart, she decides, is deficient. It hurts too much, though there is nothing physically wrong with it. Her father runs a scan of her systems every six weeks, and at her last check-up all of her systems were working as perfectly as they could ever be expected to. No, the problem with this heart is not physiological, she knows that much. The problem with this heart, this traitorous, broken heart, is that it longs for the one thing she will not let it have.

Her deviant, defecting heart will not let him go, yearns for the man she will not let herself have. Logic does not sway it; reasoning has no effect on it. No amount of cajoling, pleading, explaining will appease this heart. It holds her prisoner, aching and hurting in never ending reminder of her mistake.

Yes. It was a mistake. She should not have given in to her father's demands so easily. Nemu should have tried harder, tried to conceal it from her father. She should have tried to reason with him. And, even after she'd ended what they'd had, she should have tried harder to bridge the distance she'd put between them.

She's tried to forget him, but she cannot erase the memory of him from her soul. She's tried to numb herself against his effect on her and, as she has failed at everything else, she is unsuccessful at this endeavor as well.

Akon had been a final experiment, to see if she could bury the memory of Ikkaku's touch under the feel of Akon. But the sensation of the other man moving over her, touching her, kissing her, only made her heart ache more. It rebelled, raging at this imposter that she let near her, refusing to be gratified by a man who was, at best, a poor substitute for the 11th division 3rd seat.

Nemu is an imperfect creature, and knows that all of these mistakes are a result of her inadequacy. So she lives with this pain, this heart and it;s aching, because it is what she deserves for the decisions she's made.

**4. Followed Without Question**

The vice-captains follow their captains without question. It is a matter of duty, of loyalty. There is no vice-captain that will not follow his superior officers off the edge of a cliff. There is not a single vice captain who will not, without hesitation, throw their life away to protect the head of their division.

Perhaps this is why her father had insisted that she not form attachments to anyone. Attachments complicated. Attachments blur the certainty with which a vice-captain should act. Attachments create unnecessary difficulty within an officer's life, and Nemu marvels that anyone has ever before been capable of doing their job under the bonds of these multiple attachments.

She wonders to herself if she is really willing to do this to herself. Is she really going to allow affection for someone that is not her captain to ensnare her, to pull her in another direction? Is she going to let this heart, this soul, make a decision that her mind knows is illogical, dangerous, and hazardous?

She sits across from him in the next meeting, soul shattered and scattered, unable to think of anything except that she wants him to smile again.

And she realizes that it's not a matter of deciding that she will split her loyalty. Because that decision has long ago been made.

**5. Fear That Which You Can't See**

"Kurotsuchi-fukutaichou...can we talk?"

She doesn't look up from the table as people move around them, exiting the building where the vice-captain meeting is held. It's too dangerous too look at him, because she knows the power of his gaze will overcome the weakness of her will.

"Is there something wrong, Madarame-san?"

She feels more than sees him glance around the quickly emptying room, then watches out of the corner of her eye as the seat next to her--normally Kotetsu-san's spot--is pulled out and occupied by a much longer, leaner body.

"Sorta, yeah."

Her stomach knots painfully, excitingly, at his proximity and she drops her shaking hands into her lap, digging the nail of her thumb into her opposite palm.

"Oh, Madarame-san?"

He clears his throat, scooting his chair a bit closer to hers and rubbing his palms over his thighs. She watches this movement, eyes following the sweep of powerful hands over dark hakama. She hates herself for being so feeble, so easily captivated by things she shouldn't. She's always loved his hands--large, wide, rough, callused, strong, gentle, possessive, adoring. His hands had always been, for her, a map to his personality--everything that you wanted to know about him could be found in the lines and pattern and feel of his hands.

She tears her gaze back to her own tiny, ineffectual hands.

"Yeah. See..." He clears his throat again, one hand disappearing as he reaches up--to rub his neck, she knows, because she remembers that is one of his nervous habits.

She doesn't need to ask why he's nervous.

"Well, the thing is..." He lowers his voice and scoots his chair closer, and the space between them is so small now that when he turns his body toward her his knee grazes her own. She jumps, not for fear of the contact but afraid of the overwhelming desire for him to repeat the motion.

"...I miss you."

Her heart breaks and she shakes her head, a silent denial of his words.

"Why are ya shakin' your head? Are you saying no, I don't miss ya?"

She shakes her head again, trying to force the muscles of her throat to relax long enough to let her speak.

"So what're ya shakin' your head for?"

"You...you shouldn't be saying that, Madarame-san." Saying this hurts her more than anything in her life ever has. It seems that, when it comes to Ikkaku, she feels everything a bit too clearly, a bit more strongly.

"I had to tell ya." He reaches out, trying to touch her, but she stands so quickly her chair topples over behind her, keeping her head bowed low to obscure her eyes from his sight.

"Please..."

He stands, moving close to her but not trying to touch her again, and she can't decide if this new pain is from relief or disappointment.

"I just...I wanted to ask you if...if you might miss me too."

She's visibly shaking now and she knows that she needs to tell him that she doesn't. She needs to lie, to save him from that which he can't see. He might have thought he knew her father, knew what he was capable of, but he doesn't. And if it means destroying her heart, shattering the small pieces of her soul, she will lie to him to protect him from that.

"I..." Her voice breaks and she shakes her head, but the words won't leave her, remain trapped inside her chest. Nemu doesn't know when she started crying but the tears are dripping off her cheeks and she rubs at them, trying to destroy this evidence of her feelings.

This time when he reaches for her she can't pull away--knows that she should but can't--crying harder as he smoothes his thumbs over her damp cheeks and tilts her head back.

"Ya don't have ta say it." His words play over her cheeks and his lips graze hers once, softly, touching his forehead to her own as if this will help him to read her thoughts.

She squeezes her eyes shut, standing still for one long, endless, painfully short moment, before she jerks away, grabbing her paperwork and almost sprinting out of the building.

**6. Intuition**

Before everything happened...

...before he lost her...

...before he'd destroyed them...

...before he'd acknowledged his goal...

...before he'd reached for her...

...before she'd leaned into him...

...before she'd run away...

...he'd known her. Known her as he could only claim to know himself, and his zanpakuto. He'd been able to read her--before the end it had been as easy and effortless as knowing his own thoughts. There had been brief times when she would throw him for a loop, when she would surprise him, but those instances were usually her engineering, done on purpose to surprise him, and he'd learned to like that.

Ikkaku had known Nemu, could speak her silent language, could hear her unspoken desires, and listened to her as he listened to few others. And he could read her, read the slight play of her lips, the minor tilt of her eyebrows, the expressive yet hooded shade of her eyes. There was a time--before it all happened--that he would have felt, confidently, that he knew what she was thinking.

Now, slowly exiting the vice captain building and watching her shadow fade from view, he thinks about what she's said. He studies the memory of her body language, the inflection of her voice, the tension in her body at his touch, the feel of her reiatsu as he'd held her. He remembers the slide of her tears down her cheeks as she cried, and even though it hurts to remember that, he knows he needs to in order to hope to fully understand her.

She'd been hesitant, and withdrawn. She'd pulled away from him, and been tense. But in that brief moment, when he held her, she'd leaned into him. And when he'd kissed her, she had not flinched.

He files this information away to examine later, sensing a familiar presence and looking up at Yumichika's silhouette on the roof above him.

"Wha'dya want?"

"You look lost in thought. I know it's unfamiliar territory for you--perhaps I should draw you a map?"

Ikkaku scowls and leaps up onto the roof to glare down at the 5th seat, hand on the hilt of his zanpakuto. "Ya got a reason fer bein' here, asshole, or ya jus' here ta piss me off?"

The other man shrugs slightly, his expression an odd mix of serious and curious. "There's a captain's meeting right now."

"Yeah. So?"

"About the intruders."

Ikkaku sits, settling Houzukimaru across his lap as he eyes Yumichika, trying to decide if his friend wants information, reassurances, or simply someone to chatter to as they wait.

"Are you worried?"

Ikkaku's intuition tells him that he should be--worried about the intruders, worried about Nemu, worried about what might happen when everything comes together again--but he merely lays back, tucking his hands behind his head and watching the clouds move over the sky.

"Naw."


End file.
